


Rightfully His

by FlutterFyre



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Blanket Permission, Bloodplay, Crack, Crossover Pairings, M/M, Might be seen as dubcon, Podfic Welcome, Poki, Power Exchange, Rope Bondage, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 18:11:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2238555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlutterFyre/pseuds/FlutterFyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's November and raining along the highway just outside Beacon Hills when a strange man appears out of nowhere.</p><p>After nearly hitting him, Peter Hale grudgingly gives him a ride.</p><p>Two huge egos.</p><p>One point in space and time.</p><p>This can't end well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rightfully His

**Author's Note:**

> This idea was born in the TW Writer's Chat and a side PM session and owes its very existence to the support and encouragement received there. Thanks y'all! Also HUGE thanks to betas extraordinaire terpinleather and mistflyer1102 for their assistance in cleaning up my late night ramblings!
> 
> I have no excuse or explanation for what you are about to read. All I can say is that I'm truly, deeply sorry for any emotional or psychological trauma that results. In the words of the mystery guest, "Carry on."

Lighting flashed from cloud to cloud as the Cayenne’s windshield wipers struggled to stay ahead of rain that poured like a waterfall from the night sky. With a grumbling curse at the vagaries of the weather, Peter tapped the brakes and downshifted just as a shadow staggered into the SUV’s halogen projector beam headlights.

Thanks to superb werewolf reflexes, he was able to avoid hitting the idiot while staying on the paved two-lane highway that bordered the Preserve, but the entire experience had him annoyed enough to pull to the shoulder and stop. He watched in the rain-streaked side mirror as the figure staggered towards where the Cayenne sat idling and tapped on the driver’s side window. 

With a sense of schadenfreude, Peter hit a button and the window powered down soundlessly. In the dim light, he could easily distinguish dark, shoulder length strings of wet hair, an aristocratic facial structure beneath pale skin, light colored eyes and a _very_ odd costume.

What was most surprising was the arrogant smirk that curved the stranger’s thin lips. Peter knew that smirk. Intimately. But he had yet to see it anywhere other than a mirror.

Fascinating.

“You will provide me with a ride to the nearest place of fine lodging.”

Peter laughed at the regal tone and accompanying sense of entitlement. “Excuse me?”

“You should be honored I am affording you this privilege.”

This just got better and better. How highly must this wretched fool think of himself to speak so to the person already in the car while he stood in the rain. Without a word, Peter hit the button to raise the window.

Before it had even closed, the passenger door was opening and the stranger was sliding his thoroughly drenched self onto the soft leather of the passenger seat. What the fuck?

Furious at the presumption, Peter flashed Alpha red eyes at the intruder. 

Shrugging dismissal, the man waved a negligent hand towards the dark and empty road in front of them. “Carry on.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Do I care, might be a better question.”

“I. Am. The Alpha!” Peter all but roared at the absolute disrespect he was being tendered.

Meeting Peter’s gaze for a bare second, the infuriating stranger dismissed him, only to flinch as lightning flashed again. “Hello, Alpha. Now, can we be moving? I’d just as soon be far, far away from here.”

Peter stared but made no effort put the car in gear. Instead he asked. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t toss you back out into the storm and actually run you down?”

Without blinking the stranger answered, “I’m the best fuck you are ever going to experience.”

Peter paused, considering. In all honesty it had been too long and there was _something_ about the man.

“Very well, I’ll take you to my home. You’re in Beacon Hills. There are no ‘fine lodgings’ here.” Contempt dripped from his voice; there was a reason he had a condo. “So we will just have to see if you can live up to your self-hype.”

The other man shuddered as thunder began to roll in the distance. Peter narrowed his eyes and put the car in gear. The torrent of rain appeared to be letting up as they drew nearer to the city limits and had faded to a sprinkle by the time he pulled into the assigned spot outside the building where his condo was housed.

“Well, come along then.” Shutting off the engine, he opened the door and climbed out before leaning back in to look at the other man, who had not moved. Rolling his eyes, Peter urged him on. “Chop chop. Or you can go where you will, but I’m certainly not leaving you to sit in my car.”

The other door opened and soon the stranger met Peter’s eyes over the roof of the Cayenne. The arrogant smirk was back, whatever had spooked the man appeared to have passed. “By all means, lead the way. I wish to divest myself of these sodden garments.”

Who even spoke that that? Peter thought highly of himself and his place in the universe, but this… this was a bit much.

He rolled his eyes and turned towards the building’s resident entrance.

Even through the rain, he had been able to catch the other man’s scent and while he didn’t exactly smell human, he didn’t smell like any supernatural Peter had ever encountered. Peter also caught no whiff of gunpowder or wolfsbane, so probably not a hunter, but what?

Peter hated not knowing. Ignorance was a weakness and weaknesses were what got you killed. 

He’d know the stranger’s secrets before the night was out.

~~~~~

It was Peter’s turn to smirk as he stood at the foot of his bed, observing the dark haired man laid out and helpless before him. Divesting the other man of his strange emerald green and gold garments had been a challenge to be sure, but the end result was well worth the effort. It wasn’t as though the man had fought Peter, to be honest he had just been unaccountably particular about how the clothes were removed and put aside. They were _just clothes_ , for crying out loud.

Once naked, his guest had become complaisant, cooperating completely as Peter secured his wrists with hemp rope that was then tied to thicker set of ropes that ran between the king-sized mattress and dual boxsprings.

Part of him was surprised at the other’s easy acceptance of the thrice-looped rope cuffs around his wrists, holding his arms in a palms-up position against the mattress. The man’s pale skin fairly glowed against the deep forest green of the high thread count sheets, his drying hair spread across the pillow. In the soft light from a corner lamp, the sheets amplified the green of his pseudo-captive’s eyes. The intriguing mix of arrogance and vulnerability in them caused Peter’s cock to twitch. It had been a while since he had had someone so completely at his mercy; he wanted to savor it.

“Whatever are we waiting for? The full moon? Because that still several days away and I can promise you, I bore easily.” The light, unplaceable accent and proper enunciation was grating on the werewolf’s sensitive hearing.

Peter felt the contented smile slide from his face as the man’s arrogance tipped from amusing and all the way to annoying in a nanosecond. A growl formed in the back of his throat and he could feel the slight buzz of his claws pressing to emerge as the dark eyebrows rose and a mocking smile curved colorless lips. 

The figure before him blurred, lips plumping and turning a rosy shade as the bottom one was caught between small, perfect, and very human teeth. The dark hair shortened into messy disarray while green eyes changed to whiskey. A scattering of moles appeared almost haphazardly, but in a pattern Peter would have known anywhere.

“Stiles,” he breathed, hands clenching into clawed fists. “But how?”

The smirk he got in response was just the slightest bit off, letting Peter know it was a charade. He took a step back, flexing his hands as an impressed chuckle slipped out.

“Nice try, but no.” He raised his eyebrows. “You want to play games?”

A petulant moue formed on those tempting lips before the glistening tip of a pink tongue swept over them, nearly distracting Peter again.

“Stop it,” he growled.

“I thought you **wanted** to play games.” The lithe, unclothed figure on the bed wriggled and tugged at the restraints, causing Peter’s jeans to grow snug. “After all, you were the one to tie me up. Or is that tie me down?” He paused. “I supposed it in the end it’s all semantics. Very well.”

As Peter watched, the face blurred again before settling into familiar weathered features, eyes now blue, and the hair predominantly light brown with a slight salt and pepper effect throughout. A closely cropped matching beard hid a jaw Peter knew lacked the moles that had been there moments before, skin no longer pale, but tanned instead.

“Is this better?” Chris Argent’s craggy voice replaced Stiles’ youthful one and Peter flinched at the accuracy of the representation. This wasn’t how he wanted to interact with the Hunter. Not that this was the Hunter.

This was some shapeshifting facsimile, unreal and not to be trusted.

Peter was intrigued.

His eyes narrowed as he studied the creature before him.

“Who are you? What are you?”

“I am whoever you want me to be. I will be the best fuck of your life.”

“There was no future tense in my question. What. Are. You?” Peter let his eyes bleed red and the full force and commanding tone of an Alpha backed his words.

“Does it really matter, when you can possess whomever you truly desire?” Not-Chris paused, considering. “Unless... the person you love most is really…”

The physical form blurred yet again and Peter held his breath, unsure how the being had known to manifest as the boy who had refused and the hunter who had escaped. He was frankly concerned about who might appear next, because the current trend was far from encouraging.

A bark of laughter escaped as the fluid change settled and Peter found himself looking into the very face that greeted him in the mirror each morning. “Yeah, no. I may be a narcissist but even I have absolutely no desire to go fuck myself, despite multiple invitations to do so from the charming inhabitants of this town.”

With a joyous chortle, the face and body reverted to the ones the creature had been wearing when Peter had first laid eyes on him, earlier that night. “Oh, you are simply too precious; a werewolf after my own heart. I do believe we were made for one another.”

Bare feet silent, Peter used werewolf speed to round the bed and loom over his captive. He reached out with razor sharp claws extended and gripped the creature by its elegant, pale throat, long fingers caressing but still exerting enough pressure to be threatening. “Enough with the games. I think I’ll fuck you now.”

“Odin’s Blood, I thought you’d never ask.” Vivid green eyes met his in a gaze that should have melted a glacier. Peter lessened his grip, shifting to cradle the creature’s jaw and leaned down to fasten his mouth over the other’s, silencing the irritating voice.

He licked along the seam of closed lips, eliciting a groan of pure arousal as the other’s mouth opened, a hot tongue engaging Peter’s with enthusiasm. The Alpha werewolf broke the kiss and straightened. He tugged his soft v-neck shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor as half-lidded eyes traced over a torso Peter was understandably proud of. Even fresh from the grave, feigning a weakness he had never truly felt, he had exercised in private to retain the physique of a man fifteen years younger. Power was not just found in strength but in looks and intelligence and words. Being well able to harness each to his advantage, had brought him to now when everything was falling into place. Soon — weeks, maybe even days — and he would reacquire everything that had been stolen from him. All would know his power.

Tonight would be a delightful taste of everything that should have been his all along.

Shimmying out of his jeans, he crawled onto the bed to straddle the unclothed man who was laid out like an invitation. Unselfconscious about his own nudity, Peter swung a leg over the prone figure’s hips to straddle him, pinning him to the bed, hot flesh to hot flesh. Letting his eyes glow, Peter kept the rest of his features human as he reached out to trace random patterns over the pale skin, circling the dark, flat nipples before tracing down to the enticing line of hair that ran south from the being’s navel. The not quite bloody marks vanished with supernatural speed.

Irked, Peter pressed harder, pleased as blood welled in the wake of his claws.

“Again, I ask. What. Are. You?” 

“You seem to believe you have some degree of authority over me, mortal. You are sadly mistaken. Are we going to get to the fucking soon?” 

Peter narrowed his eyes as the flesh of the creature beneath him knit together again without a scar. Leaving marks was hardly any fun when the marks wouldn’t stay. Retracting his claws, Peter stretched to grab the bottle of lube from where he had earlier set it on the nightstand, before scooting backwards on his knees to sit on the other’s muscular thighs. He was going to enjoy this. 

“We’ll fuck, when I say we fuck. I am the Alpha!” Peter may have unintentionally roared that last bit, his patience was at its limit.

The being below him had the audacity to roll its eyes.

“Please. As if I care that you are some mortal, little alpha. Get over yourself. I am a **GOD**! I have brought entire cities to their knees. Humans bow before me and await my pleasure.”

It was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes at the absurd ramblings of an apparent lunatic. As if a ‘god’ would allow Peter to tie them up and fuck them. He flipped the cap and poured a generous amount of lube into his palm before closing the top and tossing the bottle aside. Grabbing the other being’s cock, he slicked the lube over it, grinning at the hiss evoked by the cold gel. 

“So, do you have a name, or shall I just call you ‘boy’?”

“You’ll call me ‘Master’ before this night is out.”

Peter laughed. “Oh, I seriously doubt that. Who’s tied down again?”

A calculating look entered the green eyes below him and Peter hesitated for half a second, wondering if maybe he might have miscalculated. Shaking his head, he moved to kneel between the ‘god’s’ legs, pushing them so that the knees were bent and he was one hundred percent accessible.

Then Peter traced his fingers down, past the ‘god’s’ lightly furred balls, pausing to massage each before continuing on, pressing against the perineum as he passed over it and approached his goal. 

His partner’s eyes closed as Peter progressed and he frowned, wanting to see the reaction in those expressive eyes. 

“‘Boy’, it is then,” he said and the eyes flew open, spewing indignation. 

However, before the other could say a word, Peter’s questing finger had circled twice before slipping inside the tight heat.

The response was immediate, head thrashing and entire body jerking as Peter smiled in victory.

Wasting no time, he pumped his finger in and out, adding a second to scissor and stretch, probing for and finding a prostate he hadn’t been certain existed in the other being. Shapeshifters could be so, well, shifty when it came to knowing what the original anatomy was. Just because one looked humanoid, didn’t mean all the parts functioned the same and while Peter was primarily concerned about his own pleasure, part of that pleasure was the power he exhibited over his partner’s body.

The guttural moan that resulted from his explorations was accompanied by a hip thrust that indicated Peter had struck gold and he smiled. Withdrawing his fingers, Peter smoothed lube over his cock, wrapping a tight fist around it and giving a few long pulls to coat it. 

Peter grabbed his partner’s calves and pushed, almost folding him in half for ease of access as he lined up his prick and pressed in.

It was his turn to groan as he felt his foreskin slide back, uncovering the sensitive glans. The tight heat of fucking someone was a joy he didn’t often allow himself. Distractions were never good when you had a plan. Especially when that plan was so dependent on the unmanageable actions of teenagers.

Thrusting with a single-minded focus, Peter could feel the dual coils of tension and need twining and tightening into a knot low in his gut and let his thoughts float free. Soon all of Beacon Hills would be at his mercy even as this so-called ‘god’ was. He tightened his grip and felt his claws emerge, breaking the skin, the scent of fresh blood mingling with the musk of sex. His lips pulled back and he felt his canines lengthening and sharpening. 

The last thing he expected as he stared predatorily down at the dark haired shapeshifter beneath him was to watch the other man dissolve into delighted giggles. Cold irritation flooded Peter, drowning and washing away the warm sense of possessive satisfaction he had felt moments before.

Without warning the ropes seemed to come to life, slipping free of their knots and sliding across the sheets. Weaving snakelike, they crawled up the other being’s body to wrap around Peter’s wrists. Alarmed, he pulled back, trying to escape but it was too late. 

He was trapped.

As his cock slipped out of the other being, Peter blinked and was staring at an empty bed, The ropes encasing his wrists tugged and he was pulled off balance, his quick reflexes saving him once again, this time from faceplanting into the pillow. 

Extending his biceps, he pushed up and looked around; the ‘god’ was now behind him and Peter was no longer convinced he should be placing mental quotes around that descriptor. The expression he encountered was an unexpected mix of sublime joy and predatory hunger. 

Peter startled as stronger than expected hands grasped his hips, pulling them up and putting his ass on display. This was not what he had expected at all; even so, he was… intrigued.

“I’ll accede that I may have been mistaken in calling you ‘boy’.” 

A derisive snort met his not-an-apology as the hands slid over Peter’s ass, palms cupping the cheeks and thumbs brushing feather-light along the crease between his buttocks and teasing the rim of his anus. 

Breathing in through his mouth, Peter refocused his attention away from those teasing touches and the tantalizing aroma of lust and back to learning all he could about the being who had managed to turn the tables on him with such unexpected success.

“What’s your name?” he ground out.

The smile in the other’s voice was to be expected but was aggravating all the same. “My name is Loki, but as I told you earlier… you may call me ‘Master’.”

A moment of pressure and a thick thumb slipped past the ring of muscles; Peter jolted at the intrusion; the sense of being invaded was new and not entirely comfortable. He wasn’t sure why or how, but the digit moved smoothly, as if it had been slicked. Peter could see the untouched bottle of lube lying in the tangle of sheets and had to concede that Loki — could he actually be the Norse trickster god? — was full of surprises.

Moments later, the Alpha werewolf felt Loki fill him and found himself unable to hold back his appreciation of the god’s repeated stimulation of his prostate. 

“So, Peter Hale,” the velvet voice purred. “As lovely as it was to be penetrated by you, I think I _much_ prefer this position. What say you?” 

Peter’s back bowed as hands on his shoulders pulled him up to balance on his knees, his back plastered against the firm chest of the being — god? seriously? — who had once been his captive. He whimpered as a warm hand settled at his throat, long fingers curling along his jaw, caressing the stubble before tightening and forcing him to turn his head. Bare his throat. 

Smooth dry lips just brushed against the shell of his ear as a deep voice growled, vibrating with authority. The words crackled like electricity over Peter’s skin and he felt the truth behind them and they settled in his head, a blanket of safety and warmth 

"My dear little Fenris... You. Are. Mine. Until the end of all time."

~End~

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome podficcing of any of my stories with a request to let me know so I may squee over your efforts and a caveat that the work be linked back to my posted work. Many thanks and kind regards.


End file.
